


Nothing Stays A Secret For Long

by Ghostly_Presence94



Category: Justice League - All Media Types, Wonder Woman (2017), Wonder Woman - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, mentions of steve trevor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 01:55:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13777242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostly_Presence94/pseuds/Ghostly_Presence94
Summary: Diana meets her future best friend, Dr. Barbara Ann Minerva. (Part of 'Making My Way Back' Universe)





	1. Meeting Dr. Barbara Ann Minerva

**Author's Note:**

> Hello dear reader! I know it's been a long time, but believe it or not, all this time I've been brainstorming. Then I wrote something down but hit a major wall and then, I decided to write something smaller and this is it! The longer fic I'm planning to write takes place a year after 'Making My Way Back' (if you haven't read that, I invite you to!) and this two-shot takes place during that year I won't be covering in the longer fic. I have a couple other one shots planned and hopefully I'll write something descent for the big fic, which includes a villain this time! There's a reason I'm introducing Dr. Minerva! So enough of that. I hope you enjoy!

1

The echo of the click-clack of my heels hitting the marble floor of the Macedonian display of the Louvre is the only sound that can be heard at 8pm on a Monday. I swipe left to the last page of Dr. Barbara Ann Minerva’s CV – a CV that shows her impressive trajectory at only 34 years old.

The Louvre is looking for an archaeologist to direct an excavation in Norway for a rumoured Viking site where valuable artefacts could be found. Since I became director of the antiquities department a month ago, it has become my responsibility to make sure the best people are sent to any excavation, auction or any other event that involves the acquisition of artefacts for the Louvre.

Dr. Minerva has quite the reputation for being more than willing to go to any necessary lengths to secure an artefact. What those lengths are I have no idea. I’ve heard rumours. Not necessarily good ones. Her CV is impressive and it would be idiotic to dismiss her on rumours without even talking to her.

I reach the stairs of my office and I climb down the stairs. I reach for the landline and dial the number listed at the top of her CV. The phone only rings once before my call is answered.

“Minerva,” she says in an upper class English accent.

“ _Bonsoir_ , Dr. Minerva. This is Diana Prince, director of the antiquities department at the Louvre,” I say in French.

One of the many qualities listed on her CV was her ability to speak eIgor languages, French being one of them.

“Oh, yes. I was hoping to receive your call Director Prince,” she says in flawless French.

“Please, call me Diana,”

“Then by all means call me Barbara Ann. I’ve never been one for formalities much to my father’s dismay. I believe it gets in the way of honest conversation,”

I smile at her remark. She doesn’t like formalities yet she addressed me with one. I like people who are direct yet not disrespectful.

I continue in French, “Well, Barbara Ann I read your CV and of course I’ve heard about you before and I would love for you to come to the Louvre, if you can, so we can talk face to face and see if you’re the right person for the job.”

“When do you want me there?”

“When can you be here?”, I answer with a question.

“Right now I’m at home in Nottinghamshire so… I can be in Paris in 48 hours. Does that work for you?”

I quickly open my laptop and click on my calendar. “I have Wednesday open at 10am. Is that enough time for you to get here?”

“Plenty. I’ll see you on Wednesday, Diana. Thanks for the call,”

“My pleasure. Have a safe trip, Barbara Ann. Bye,”

“Bye,”

I read the CVs of many talented and accomplished archaeologists but none of them felt right. When I got to Barbara Ann’s something clicked. It felt so right that I turned around from my way home and headed right back to my office to call her. I took that as a good sign since all I want to do is run back home to Steve as soon as I’m done with work.

Wednesday comes fast and at 9:50am Emilie, my new assistant, comes down the stairs to let me know Barbara Ann is here. I take note of her punctuality and put that on my mental list of things I like about her so far.

I’ve seen several pictures of Barbara Ann before in newspapers and featured articles, so I recognize her immediately. She’s as tall as I am, blonde hair, wears thick-framed glasses and is fit. But I find myself surprised by her confidence. It’s in the way she walks with her head held high, focused gaze and just this general sense of badassery. If I were to put armour on her, she could easily pass as an Amazon.

“Barbara Ann. _Enchantée_ ,” I say standing up and walking around my desk. I stretch out my hand.

“Diana. Pleasure to meet you,” She says taking my hand and giving it a firm shake.

“May I get you anything to drink Dr. Minerva?” Emilie asks politely before leaving.

“Oh no, _merci_. I had one too many espressos on my way here,”

Emilie nods and leaves us.

“Please sit, Barbara Ann. I hope your train ride was a pleasant one?” I motion for her to sit opposite me.

“As far as train rides go, it wasn’t too bad.”

“Glad to hear it. Now, why don’t we get to the reason why we’re here? Why should I hire you instead of any of the others just as qualified candidates?”

She smiles in a way that makes me think she was hoping I would ask her exactly that question.

“I think the correct question would be ‘why _wouldn’t_ you hire me?’ Let’s be honest here. Nobody you have interviewed comes even close to what I have accomplished. Nobody you have interviewed will bring the attention that I can _and_ _will_ bring to this project. Nobody you have interviewed is Barbara Ann Minerva. If you hire me, I can 100% guarantee that the Louvre will have those artefacts it desires so much. And I can promise you the eyes of the world will be watching. I get people what they want. I always deliver no matter what. I didn’t get to where I am by giving out false hope. If I say you’re getting something, you’re getting it,”

I lift an eyebrow and can’t help but smile in surprise. And it’s not necessarily a smile of admiration. Arrogance, this amount of arrogance is almost always dangerous (or irritating at the least).

I put that on my mental list of things I don’t like about her so far.

As always I stay professional and try to remember what was on her CV. I quickly remember she is a polyglot. She claims to be fluent in eIgor languages. I already heard her speak French; she’s English, so obviously she’s fluent in that, so I decide to ask my next question in Greek.

“I wanted to get to that. The Louvre is a renowned institution and it has a reputation to protect. You can understand that one of the reasons I’m not completely convinced that you are the right person for the job is because of those rumours that go around about you and how you operate. They don’t always paint you as the moral and ethical professional that we’re looking to hire.”

Barbara Ann looks me intensely in the eyes and I hold her gaze with the practiced ease of a superhero staring down a villain before a fight. After a few seconds she smiles and shakes her head. She crosses her arms on the table and leans forward slightly. I hold my position, curious of what she’ll say next.

Effortlessly switching from French to Greek she answers, “Don’t believe everything you hear, Diana. I was taught to be fearless and unwavering when it comes to protecting my legacy. I became an archaeologist because I feed off of the mystery and the high of setting on an adventure not knowing if I’ll come out alive. I don’t take the easy jobs. You will never find me on an excavation in a parking lot next to a church. You will find me deep in the African jungles negotiating with unwelcoming tribe leaders who are pointing spears soaked in poisonous venom at me. I’ve found myself in situations where I had to use my brain and sometimes even my wit to escape with my life _and_ the artefacts I promised. But let me ask you this, all those rumours you’ve heard, have _any_ of them ever came from the people who protected those artefacts?”

I hold her gaze for a few seconds and leaning back on my chair I say, “No,”

I note that her Greek is flawless. That’s there languages she has proven to speak perfectly.

Barbara Ann nods and stays quiet for a moment, as if deciding if she should say what she’s thinking or not.

“I think it is important for you to know, Diana that I’m not superficial. I’m not insensitive. I’m not all about the glory. I know it comes out that way sometimes. I can’t always help it. I was, after all, raised by my father,”

She says that in an exhale, more like an afterthought and at my look of curiosity in regards to her father, she waves it off and says,

“If you end up hiring me, I’ll tell you all about him. But what I was trying to say is, I never have and never will retrieve an artefact from a place that does not want me to. I don’t just show up with an immense group of people and machinery spewing order after order and decimating someone’s home for me to have a nice little article published in magazines praising my every move. I always show up first, alone, and meet with the leaders of the community. I talk to them and let them know what my intentions are and what they’re comfortable sharing not only with me but with the world. I show them what my plan is and if it will in any way affect their everyday lives. I hear their concerns and calm their fears. I take care of them. At least I try to. That’s why I overcompensate sometimes and make it all about me, so that the cameras are not pointing at places they’re not welcomed in. But obviously the press doesn’t know that I do that.”

Now I start smiling in good surprise. Barbara Ann Minerva cares about people and cares about their culture and how they’re portrayed to the world. And that’s exactly the kind of person I’m looking for.

“I’m sure you know this about me, since it’s written everywhere” – she continues – “I come from an aristocratic English family and so I have some money at my disposal and I sometimes use it to change people’s minds, if you know what I mean. So there’s that too.”

I smile and pretend I didn’t hear that because bribes are not exactly the kind of thing I could publicize.

I wasn’t expecting to discover this side of Barbara Ann. She’s done a very good job in making people believe she is this maverick that does anything to achieve what she wants. I mean, it’s not totally wrong since she made it sound like she willingly gets herself kidnapped just for the rush of it, but she’s kind hearted even if she’s not totally aware of it.

In English I say, “You knew you were getting the job before you even walked in through those doors, didn’t you?”

She smiles cockily, “Of course, I did. I’m Barbara Ann Minerva after all,”

Yes, she definitely is.


	2. Really? My Nail polish?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear reader! Enjoy!

2

  _8 months later_

I sit in my office with Emilie standing next to me, giving me document after document for me to sign, while simultaneously being on the phone, trying to fix a paperwork mix up with a Dutch gallery for the transportation of three Manet paintings from the Netherlands to the Louvre.

Turns out that the Dutch gallery that houses these paintings typed the wrong name for one of the paintings on the permits (how do you make such a mistake?) and now security won’t allow the DHL team in charge of transporting said paintings to move anything. As a security measure, we always send former soldiers to protect the valuable art we transport and it’s with one of them who I’m on the phone with.

“Madame Prince, what should we do?” A frustrated former _capitaine_ asks me.

“Put the director on the phone, _s’il vous plait_ , Alexandre.”

I hear Alexandre calling Director Djikema and passing the phone to him.

“Ms. Prince, my sincerest apologies for the mistake. We take complete responsibility for this.” His voice shakes and he is practically stumbling over his words. The gallery he helps run is a relatively small one and an important transaction as the one that’s being done with the Louvre will definitely help bring attention to them. But also making such a terrible mistake shows clumsiness and potentially, unprofessionalism on their part. So I understand his nervousness.

I switch to Dutch to try and calm him down. “Director Djikema, the only thing I want is for those there paintings to find their way to the Louvre on time. How long do you think it will take you to get those permits corrected and ready for my team to start moving the paintings?”

He sighs in thought. “Three hours tops, Ms. Prince.”

“Hm,” In three hours those paintings should’ve been loaded up safely on the plane and ready to leave for Paris. I quickly try to find a solution to this. Moving the schedule will cost the Louvre thousands of euros, but telling Director Djikema this won’t help anyone, especially him and his nerves. “Is it possible to allow my team to finish packing those paintings and move them to the truck while we wait for the permits?”

I hear silence and I feel slightly irritated at the fact that he seems to be thinking it over.

“Ms. Prince, our security protocol does not allow us to remove any paintings out of the gallery before having all the necessary paperwork.”

 _Really?_ I pull the phone away from my ear and look up to the ceiling. _Oh, Father give me the patience_.

“Director Djikema, I’m trying to make this transaction succeed. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that there’s a clause in the contract that very clearly states that if any violation upon the agreed terms were to occur, the contract immediately becomes invalid?”

I don’t take pleasure in the unsaid threat, but a lot of resources were put into this transaction and I don’t plan to waste any of it.

“Of course, Ms. Prince. I can allow your team to place the paintings in the truck until every permit is ready, then you can take them to their new home,”

I smile. “Thank you, Director Djikema. Could you please put Alexandre back on?”

“Of course. Once again I’m so very sorry for this mess,”

I try to end our conversation on good terms. “Mistakes happen. The important thing is to find the solution and I believe we just did.”

He laughs in relief understanding that I don’t mean to let everyone know about the problem we came across. “Thank you, Ms. Prince. Have a good day,”

“You too, Director.”

I hear the shuffle of the phone as it is passed from one man to the other. “Madame Prince?”

“Alexandre, keep me updated and if in 3 hours those permits are nowhere in sight call me immediately, otherwise text messages will be fine,”

“ _Reçu_ , Madame Prince.” He answers like the former _capitaine_ that he is.

“ _Merci_ , Alexandre,”

I hung up the phone and sigh with partial relief. Hopefully I won’t have to intervene any further. Emilie hands me a few more documents to sign and then she picks up the whole stack of papers.

“Once I take this up to legal, we should be able to proceed with the transportation of the sculptures for the auction. Anything else you need from me, Diana?”

“ _Non_ , Emilie. _Merci_ ,”

She nods and climbs the stairs of my office. When I hear the _click_ of the door closing, I collapse on my chair with an overly dramatic groan. All morning I’ve been on and off the phone, coming in and out of my office making sure everything is ready for when the paintings arrive and I’ve spent most of the afternoon signing documents for the auction we’re hosting _and_ add on top of all that, a crisis in a Dutch gallery.

I close my eyes and try to relax for a sec-

_Ding, ding, ding, ding_

I open my eyes and quickly grab my phone. Amber alert. I quickly tap on the bubble on my screen and it takes me to a live feed of a hostage situation in the _Banque National_ just a few blocks away from the museum.

“ _Nous sommes en direct de la Banque National_ where five armed robbers are holding approximately ten people hostage demanding to be paid 4 million Euros within the next half hour or they’ll start shooting people.”

That familiar sense of protectiveness washes over me, and I quickly bring down the painting I have on the wall concealing the safe that hides my armour. I change into it, put the painting back on its place, lock my office door and leave through the window on the far right of my office. I leave my clothes on a neat pile by the window to change into when I come back. I climb all the way up to the roof and jump there streets over to land on top of a building that’s right in front of the bank.

I stand there for a few minutes to try and find any entry points, but the robbers have positioned themselves in a way that won’t allow me to come in unnoticed.

“You have _cinq minutes_ left! Or he dies first! Tick tock!” One of the robbers grabs an elderly man by the collar, pushes him down on his knees and points, what looks like, an AK-47 to his chest.

Deciding to act now, I jump and lift my forearm to break through the round window on top of the main doors. I land on one knee and quickly whip out my lasso to throw it towards the ankle of the robber who’s closest to me. I yank on the lasso and the robber lands hard on his back, hitting his head on the floor and losing consciousness. I look over my left shoulder to see a bullet flying off of the rifle’s barrel of another robber. I turn fully and raise my right arm, blocking the bullet. I speed towards him, grabbing the rifle and snapping it in half. I grab him by the neck and send him flying towards the wall.

The other three robbers start to unload all their ammo at me. I block and deflect (making sure to move away from the hostages to avoid any of them getting hit by a stray bullet), until they run out of bullets. Once that happens, in a matter of seconds they’re all unconscious and the police starts moving in.

“Is everyone okay?”, I ask at the men and women staring at me.

“ _Merci a vous_ , we are. _Merci beaucoup_ , Wonder Woman.” The elderly man says.

I smile at them and turn towards the window I came in through and jump through it, towards the Louvre.

I land on the roof and climb down the side of the building. I jump, landing right outside my office window. I change out of my armour, taking my headband first, then my boots and finally, the armour itself. I put on my navy blue bodycon dress and fasten the golden belt around my waist. I step into my black pointed-toe pumps and lean down to pick up and fold the armour. I push open the window and listen for any signs of movement. When I don’t hear anything, I climb in and quickly open the safe to put my armour inside. I close it and hang the painting back up. I climb the stairs and unlock the office door.

I walk back down to close the window, when I see I forgot to put away the lasso.

“Where’s my head?”

I grab it and turn towards the painting when I hear the steps of someone coming down the stairs. I quickly try to decide where I can hide the lasso and not finding a better spot, I throw it under my desk.

“Barbara Ann! What are you doing here?”

I try to hide my surprise. I didn’t even hear her open the door. I walk closer to my desk and see that the handle of the lasso didn’t quite make it under the desk.

“I walked past Emilie on my way down from legal and I asked her if you were in your office and she said you were. I knocked and nobody answered and since the door was locked, I assumed you went somewhere, so I waited outside. But just now I heard some movement and now the door’s unlocked…”

“I…”, _Think fast, Diana._ “I got hot and couldn’t stand wearing my spanx any longer. So I took them off and locked my door just to make sure nobody came in. I didn’t hear you knock,”

She frowns. “Why do you wear spanx?”

“To keep everything in.” I’ve never in my life worn spanx.

“To keep what in?! Your internal organs?”, Barbara Ann asks quite scandalized.

I can’t help but laugh at that. After witnessing Dr Barbara Ann Minerva at work, the Louvre offered her a permanent job at the museum. She refused at first, saying she never stays in one place and after talking to her and telling her that growing roots somewhere is not a bad thing, she decided to try it for year. _Just a year_ , she emphasized.

It’s been 8 months and we’ve become very close. At first, it was a little strange. I guess I had forgotten how to be friends with someone normal. Barbara Ann would come and eat her lunch in my office; she would ask me what I did for fun and turns out, she loves reading and watching plays just like I do. We overlapped in a lot of things.

After talking to Steve and sharing my doubts about befriending Barbara Ann, he told me it was okay to open up, to let people in. He specifically said,

“ _Your only friends are the members of the league and Alfred. You need to have some normal people around you. I’m not even normal anymore, with your father doing his hocus pocus on me,”_

I listened to him and the next day I offered Barbara Ann tickets to go see King Lear. Not too long after, I introduced her to Steve. They hit it off and the there of us started hanging out. Now she comes over to the apartment and has dinner with Steve and I, we text each other about everything. She has become a true friend.

Barbara Ann pulls a chair and sits down. I wince at her proximity to the lasso. I look up at her and notice her whole demeanour has changed.

“While I’ve been waiting for you, I’ve come to realize one of two things is about to happen. Either we are about to become the best of friends or I might find myself in danger of suffering a bit of bodily harm,”

I frown confused and I momentarily forget about the lasso… but only momentarily.

“Um, okay.” I lean back on the shelf and cross my arms, curious. Discreetly I push the lasso under the desk with my foot, trying to keep it right where I can see it and out of Barbara Ann’s sight.

She licks her lips and fixes her glasses. “I have an IQ of 160,”

I laugh a little at the way she says it. “Yes, I know. I w-“

“Ahnnn” – she wiggles her index finger at me – “I’m not done. Having the IQ that I have allows me to connect certain things faster than your average person. Things they would take a long time to connect if at all. At first I thought it was just a coincidence that every time there was some kind of emergency in Paris or anywhere really, you’d be nowhere to be found. I noticed this a couple of months ago, but I didn’t really think much of it,”

My hearts starts pounding and I hope it’s not going in the direction I think it’s going.

She continues, “But then, two weeks ago, I asked you what the name of your nail polish was because I was in love with the colour. Remember?”

I nod, remembering when we were coming out of the event where we presented the artefacts we got from Norway to the Louvre’s elite group of donors.

Barbara Ann nods slowly. “I bought that nail polish and I’ve worn it every single day since. I’ve worn it so much, that I could recognize it anywhere. And just now, there was a hostage situation in the _Banque Nationale_ and right before it turned deadly – _boom_. Wonder Woman shows up to safe the day. I was right outside your office, watching the whole thing play out in my cell, while I was waiting for you, and then they showed a slo mo of Wonder Woman snapping someone’s rifle in half and then grabbing the robber by the neck - and there, _right there_ I paused it because that’s My Sand-ity by O.P.I! You’re her aren’t you? You’re Wonder Woman,”

I was trying to keep my poker face but it slowly morphed into total confusion because how in the name of _Zeus_ , after more than a century of keeping my identity hidden and protected, did my stupid nail polish gave away who I am?!

I try to come up with something, _anything_ to say to Barbara Ann that will make her think that she is totally wrong and that no, I’m not Wonder Woman. I’m about to tell her that a lot of people wear that colour and Wonder Woman could be one of them, but she shoots down that attempt even before I get a word out.

“If you’re about to deny it, don’t. I already saw the rope thingy you’re trying so hard to hide.”

I deflate at that and lean down to pick up the lasso and put it on the table.

“Oh my God. It’s true. You’re Wonder Woman!”

She practically yells it and I shush her.

“Yes, yes. I am. Don’t yell it for the whole museum to hear!”

She puts her hand over her mouth. “Sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just that… as a kid you were my absolute favourite! I used to make a sword and shield out of scraps of wood I would find around my estate and pretend I was you! This is absolutely mental!”

At her fangirling over me, I calm down a little. I’ve known Barbara Ann for 8 months, but she never strike me as the kind of person who would have a favourite superhero or anything that ‘mainstream’. 

I smile at her. “You know, I’ve been living in Man’s World for more than a century and you’re the first person to find out who I was by mere observation.”

“Man’s World. Is that what your people call Earth? Wait, you’re making it sound like I’m not the first person to find out you’re… _her_.” She says looking around even though there’s no one in my office.

“Man’s World is what the Amazons call the civilized world, not Earth. I was born on Earth. We just call it Earth. And yes, you’re the third person to figure out I’m… _her_. First woman though,”

She narrows her eyes at me. “Amazons as in the ones that were expelled of their district by Heracles so he could get Hippolyte’s girdle?”

I chuckle, “It’s Hippolyta and no. That’s a myth. We live on an island called Themyscira. Upon its creation Zeus cloaked it, so we’re protected. Nobody finds that island unless He allows them to.”

She removes her glasses and rubs her eyes. “Di, you’re making my brain melt. Is that even your real name? Diana is Roman not Greek.”

“You’re absolutely right, but that’s my real name. Not the Prince though.”

“So you just went by Diana at home? Just Diana?” She asks putting her glasses back on.

I smile mischievously, “You want me to really melt your brain?”

Her eyes get as big as saucers. “ _Dear God_. What?”

I lean forward and say, “At home I was Diana, Princess of Themyscira. Daughter of Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons. And not too long after I left, I discovered I was also Zeus’ daughter. I’m a demigod.”

My smile grows wider and wider and her jaw drops lower and lower as she absorbs the information I just shared about myself. I’m not going to lie, talking about myself freely to someone who is a normal human being feels… liberating. I’m so incredibly grateful that I have Steve and someone I go home to who I can talk to about anything and everything, but once I leave the house it’s just me again. Barry, Bruce, Clark, Arthur and Victor are not involved in my day-to-day life, so even though I have them and Steve, sometimes I still feel a little lonely. That’s the cost of living a double life of sorts, I guess.

But what Barbara Ann said at the beginning of the conversation was right. One of two things was going to happen after she revealed she knew who I was and let’s just say, I don’t plan to cause her any bodily harm.

 


End file.
